


What's left of me

by Sara_Nublas



Series: Volver [2]
Category: Criminal Minds
Genre: Gen, Sequel to 'Asteriscus hierochunticus', Spoilers to Lauren
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-08
Updated: 2011-04-24
Packaged: 2017-10-17 18:53:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 10,926
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/180114
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sara_Nublas/pseuds/Sara_Nublas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set after Lauren. Emily comes back to the BAU and realizes her return is not as easy as everybody wished.<br/>Series of snapshots exploring Emily's thought and her relationship with each of her colleagues.<br/>Please review :)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As promised this is the sequel of Asteriscus hierochunticus, it's not cardinal to read the first part, but it would help to understand... and it would make me immensely happy :)  
> This story is organized in a series of chapters, each one exploring as a series of snapshots the relationship between Emily and her colleagues one by one after her return to the BAU.  
> Hope you like it... Please review!
> 
> NOTE: After some very good criticism, I decided to edit the story and this required going through it since the beginning. Nothing paramount, I just changed the tense in a way that seems to make the narration flow better. For this a huge thank you to rabirhek for the suggestions and the kind support.

_There’s a smell of cheap disinfectant floating in the air of this apartment, it’s not exactly pleasant but apparently did the job because there are no traces of the mess that happened few months ago. Just a halo of a slightly darker hue where the blood impregnated permanently the wooden floor is left to indicate that the body was lying here, but aside from that the walls are impeccably stainless and freshly painted, you couldn’t say someone died in here.  
This house is exactly what I need right now, four walls and a roof over my head, nothing cozy or familiar; it well recreates the atmosphere of the places where I’ve lived over the past nine months, no personal items, no pictures or books to warm up the environment, no traces of my presence; the clothes stay in the bag, except the ones I wear by the day, a gun is safely stored under the pillow and a picture of the team is beside the clock on the ground near the bed, it’s the only personal item I own, the only object that could betray me, but I need something to hold on to, something to remember who I am.  
The previous owner left here a table with few chairs, a crippled sofa and a mattress; it’s all I need._

A soft thud at the door interrupts her thoughts “Emily?” JJ cautiously enters the apartment and immediately freezes at the sight of the bare room, the big windows and the high ceilings exalting even more the desolated emptiness.  
“Hi, JJ” Emily welcomes her with a bit of awkwardness. There will been a lot of it in the future, it’s always difficult to understand which register to use with someone who came back from the dead, whether to pick up things where they were left or to acknowledge the uneasiness attempting to fill the gulf that was left by the absence.  
“Sorry, the door was unlocked” the blonde justifies her intrusion, still dumbfounded at the sight of the hovel where Emily has decided to live “Emily, if you have money problems..”  
The brunette catches her friend’s worry “No JJ, you don’t have to worry. I know this doesn’t exactly look like my style, but I didn’t want to fool myself with the promise of a stable life until I know for sure this could work”  
“This?” JJ looks more and more perplexed by the second.  
“My return. It’s not that I come back after months of hiding and everything goes back to normal, and honestly I am not even sure I can still attribute a meaning to this word” she goes on with a shrug “They were all happy to having me back and alive, but I don’t know how the team is going to react at the perspective of working with me in the field, I don’t know if I still have a spot and if they can trust me again. So before knowing what’s going to be I can’t start building anything solid, I couldn’t take it if I had to undo it all again” Emily immediately regrets her admission, not because she has showed her weak side but because this caused a veil of pain to descend on her friend’s face and frankly what she hates most is the pity on people’s face, it makes her feel a painful case and she’s had enough of this.  
“I understand Emily, even though I believe you can find a temporary but more hospitable solution. This place seems the hideout of a drug dealer…” JJ comments bothered.  
Emily welcomes that observation with a tip of resentment “yeah, I guess over the months I had the chance to gain a perspective of life very different from yours. The concept of home as a hospitable nest to come back to at night ceased to mean something to me a while ago” she says, and again she regrets not counting up to ten before opening her mouth, “When I was at the hospital visiting Morgan I heard two nurses talking about this apartment, and how despite being a deal nobody wanted to live in a former crime scene”  
“A crime scene?” JJ echoes with even more worry than before.  
“The previous tenant was some kind of artist who was shot, they actually never cleared if it was suicide or homicide, but for sure he wasn’t a snow flake and your hypothesis of the criminal hideout is probably not far from the truth. Anyway, the landlord was giving it away for a ridiculous price because apparently many people find it creepy to leave in a house where someone deceased” she comments with a flat tone to which JJ reacts arching her eyebrow.  
“And you’re fine with that?” her friend inquires.  
“Well, I find it kind of ironic… I faked my death, then I came back and now I live in a house where somebody died for real but in unclear circumstances. Fake ghost meets real ghost” her smile fades in front of JJ’s concerned expression “Just don’t tell Morgan about that, if he finds out I live here he will come by and renovate the house entirely” she tries unsuccessfully to relieve her friend’s worry with a joking tone.  
JJ finally gives up, she knows that if Emily decides something nobody can dissuade her, but her concern over her friend hasn’t diminished at all when she bids her goodbye, “I’m sorry for the brief visit but I have to go and pick up Henry at school. I’ll see you soon anyway, I believe Garcia is organizing a big welcome back dinner and we’ll all be there” she squeezes Emily’s hand who responds with a smile.  
“Thank you JJ, for everything you did” she replies before closing the door behind her back.

 _You can’t understand it. You can’t possibly grasp the catastrophic effect that such a radical change of life has on someone. Keeping track of her movements, reading reports or handing paper bags with passports and bank accounts at a bistro in Paris is not enough to get it. You do your job and as ugly as it gets, at the end of the day you come back home to your family who helps you to get your humanity back.  
When you hide for months like I did, there’s no escape from the desperation, the nightmare, the lie inside the lie; you can’t afford friends, acquaintances or reference points, it’s only you and your memories, which get more and more feeble each day. To become a ghost, to survive in the darkness without destination, it requires to dig out your primal instinct, to be driven by bare survivalism and nothing else, it’s a scary dark place where to venture and it’s easy to turn into a rabid beast. Many times I found myself soaking in grudge, because they trashed me into a cell and thrown the key away; I knew it was not the truth, they all loved me, but anger was all I had to hold on to, sometimes.  
How can you explain that hell is not dying, hell is surviving to your own death? Hell is looking at the face in the mirror every morning clutching to the memories of your past identity, to the painful awareness that once you were real. This JJ can’t understand, nobody can._


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, if you stumble upon this story and like it, please leave a trace, a comment, some criticism. Thank you!

Emily walks through the empty bullpen keeping her breath and appreciating that Hotch has summoned her that early in the morning. Being able to dodge the welcome back committee by the team in full formation is a big relief. Not that she doesn’t want to see them or she isn’t happy to have her family back, but after months of solitude and isolation, the simplest social interaction can easily get pretty intense and even though everybody has been incredibly accommodating so far, she can’t help reading the pity on their faces.  
Passing by her previous desk she notices it is now someone else’s working place and feels a twinge in her chest; staplers, scissors and pens are accurately lined on the right upper corner of the table and on the opposite side few plastic containers are filled with paper clips and drawing pins of even color.  
A drawer partially opened exposes folders ordered by color code, she can’t help wondering which classification criteria has been used, typology of offender, geographical location of the case, alphabetical order..  
Her profiling is interrupted by Hotch clearing his throat and staring at her with an arched eyebrow from the entrance of his office.  
As soon as she closes the door behind herself, he motions her to sit down on the sofa “Do I have to remind you the rules about profiling colleagues?” he starts calmly with a feeble grin of amusement.  
Emily smiles apologetically “First, technically I’m not part of this team anymore, and second nobody respects that rule, you know it well. Usually we’re just cautious enough not to be caught, but we do profile each other, continuously. Am I wrong?”  
Hotch hints a nod and turns serious, the weight of the unspoken words and the long kept secrets between them instantly pours and fills the room with a mix of feelings difficult to organize and disentangle. From the dismay for how things went awry, to the sorrow for the burden that both of them – in different forms – had to carry, to the regret for not having seen and not having said before; all their private demons are suddenly unleashed to haunt them.  
Finally Hotch breaks the silence “I guess that if we started looking back at the past months we could find infinite reasons to beat ourselves and to blame each other. Honestly I believe you already went through hell over these months and you don’t need a further process, I also know your proclivity to martyrdom and I’m convinced you found plenty of ways to punish yourself more than I could ever do. I know it’s not easy to disappear and I know how excruciating it is to be parted by your family against your will and leaving everything behind” he takes a pause then, his voice slightly cracking “I would like to provide a nobler justification to my choice, but truth is that given the situation, faking your death and sending you away was the only safe option for you, for the team and our families; as chief in charge I had to protect my team and in this case the only way to do it was by leaving behind one of us and lying to the others. I’m sorry.”  
Emily fakes a feeble smile, knowing that probably none of them will ever let out how they really feel about the situation and also understanding how painful it has to be for Hotch to experience so up close the obvious parallel between her and Haley, “Hotch, when I left to face Doyle I wasn’t even planning to survive. I just wanted to be sure that no one in the team or near it would be harmed and as far as I am concerned it worked, not in the way I expected, but now Doyle is dead and everybody is safe. Those months were hard for me as for you and the team and I know there’s no way of going back or wipe the past and start all over, but I accept everything that will happen and the awareness that everybody’s safe will pay off even for the bitter turn this situation might take”  
Hotch scrutinizes her, it’s hard to accept that for five years he worked side by side with a woman who deceived them all without contradicting herself ever, and accepting her back implies the logic assumption that they will trust her without questioning her sincerity. Sooner said than done.  
“We had to replace you with another profiler during your absence” he says briefly.  
“I know and I understand” she swallows, she doesn’t like it at all, but she understands it and can’t blame Hotch for his decision.  
“You will join the team on probation. You are not allowed to join us in the field yet. Just paperwork, consultations, profiles, reports and office job; you will help Garcia while we are on cases and take part to the meetings, I want to see how the team deal with you and you with them and if you can work together again. Agent Lloyd will go on working actively in the team until I make a decision, which will be supported also by psychological and physical evaluations that you WILL undertake regularly. Eventually I will decide whom of you two will stay. Clear?”  
“Clear” she breaths out.  
“Also to avoid tensions and overcrowding you will be in JJ’s former office, on your own. I can imagine that at the beginning your return will be a bit of a bombshell and I don’t want you or the rest of the bureau to be distracted by this” he carries on stern.  
“Thank you” and for this she’s sincerely grateful, already dreading the daunting first days among puzzled looks, hand-shaking and big-hug-time.  
“It’s all for now” Hotch dismisses her and watches her as she walks through the bullpen and toward her office, well aware that it’s far from over and the process of coming back will be long and difficult.

 _Everybody looks at me as if this was the end of a nightmare, the happily ever after we were all waiting for. I crossed all the lines, lied to my friends, I died, then nine months after I mysteriously reappeared to kill the man who destroyed my life and my reputation, and now everybody clap their hands in a standing ovation. It’s actually grotesque and genuinely irritating to realize how carefully everybody is avoiding the crucial question, the one they are dying to ask but don’t have the guts to: what have you done during these nine months?  
I guess some monsters are better to be kept in the closet, there’s no good in dragging them out of darkness. Not even Hotch has the force to ask that to me, we hide behind the excuse of clearance and classified information but I see how he struggles to look me in the eyes. The same is for the others, they jump around in happiness, they worry that I feel welcome back and at home but nobody really wants to know where I’ve been, what I’ve done, who I’ve been. It’d hurt them too much to know in detail what I had to sacrifice to have them all safe, and I’m okay with that; I’m not too anxious to expose my private life again to them and I really agree with Hotch that this was the best decision to take, I couldn’t live with the idea that some innocent fell for my battle.  
But there’s a part of me that screams and shouts, that it’s tired to wear this façade, that is exhausted by this masquerade. Emily Prentiss is dead, something else came back, something corrupted, hopeless, rabid and scared, something I allow to come out only at night when I crouch in my bed, sleepless and terrified until I find oblivion through the sobs. Nobody seems willing to acknowledge this change, they see I’m sure, but they don’t want to accept it. So again I find myself floating in the crowd like a shadow, unseen, unnoticed and pretending to be okay with that.  
All of a sudden I start realizing how Haley must have felt, she was sent away to start from scratches with a son and no more contact with the outside world; her job, her friends, her family were all gone. Everyday surviving, waiting for bad news or good news but also dreading them because they were the reminder of the life she abandoned and couldn’t have back, not being able to do anything but to wait for her fate. In this perspective I ask myself whether it’s harder to be the rabbit hiding in its hole or the greyhound chasing the prey, and honestly I can’t figure out the answer._


	3. Chapter 3

Penelope turns at the soft thud on the door and a big smile lights her face. “Hei there, stranger! I looked for you five minutes ago but you were nowhere to be found. You just arrived?”  
“Actually I came in early this morning, Hotch is letting me sit in JJ’s former office to avoid all the sensationalism of my coming back…” Emily justifies standing still at the door, while a feeling of awkwardness starts creeping up on her.  
“It must be pretty daunting to find yourself under the magnifying glass, uh? But if it helps, you look amazing; you could easily be FBI version of Angelina Jolie” Penelope gives her a reassuring smile.  
“Yeah, well it’s a shame they didn’t include Brad Pitt in the package..” Emily plays along trying to ease the atmosphere “it’s kind of weird to be the object of so much gossip, but it’ll pass as it passed for Angelina” she responds, more trying to convince herself than Garcia.  
Penelope stares at her friend uncertain, a turmoil of feelings and questions crowding her stomach, and finally blurts out almost in a whimper “Emily, I tried to find a way to say this so many times, but it seems there’s no way not to make it sound awkward, so I’ll just let it out before I explode..”  
“Okay?” Emily takes a seat in front of the analyst and waits for her to carry on.  
“I don’t know what you did and where you’ve been in the last months” not seeing any snap in the counterpart, she gathers her courage and goes on “A part of me wants to keep it this way, forget what happened and have my Emily back, but I know it’s a childish illusion. I can’t imagine what you’ve been through out there all alone, and I don’t know if you want to talk about that, but if you do just you know that I’m right here anytime you need me. Okay?”

 _Penelope hasn’t changed, she’s this formidable shiny soul, always ready to provide comfort and friendship, always looking out for her friends and running to help them to get up when they fall. She moves comfortably in this net of relationships, knowing exactly where to find everybody and how to handle them, like a pianist who could play his melody blindfolded in a dark room, easily reaching for the right keys, following his experience and instinct. But right now Penelope is lost with me, she tries to catch glimpses of her old friend in my gestures, in my words and expressions, sometimes she succeeds and so I can see her face brighteingn up and her eyes shining. But other times I see her uneasiness while she wanders through unfamiliar territories, desperately searching for known features and taking in new details to learn her way around. She’s making a huge effort out of her love for me, for her Emily, but she’s deadly scared when she offers me her comfort.  
She’s terrified of what she could ear, she’s terrified to discover that what she dreads already is true, that you can’t bargain your way out of hell without compromises.   
She’s terrified, but still she doesn’t run away, on the contrary she reassuringly smiles at me with open arms as if to say ‘No worries, everything will be all right’.  
She’s terrified, but she stays holding my hands and I almost break in tears before her astounding bravery.  
I can’t help but trust her, blindly. _

“JJ also told me that you found a house…” Garcia then moves to a more comfortable topic, still with a bit of uncertainty as if knowing that the person in front of her is a lot like her Emily, but not quite yet.  
“Ouch” is the only comment the brunette voices.  
“A dead man’s house, Emily… Really?” Penelope settles a little, feeling she’s regaining the reins of the situation; she smiles relaxed recognizing her old friend and feels comfortable in pushing the conversation further.  
“Next step, are you organizing a séance?” She tilts her head on one side surveying Emily’s glare “I mean, I have a lot of spare candles if you want..”  
Emily chuckles “Thanks Garcia, I’ll keep that in mind, even though at the moment I am far more interested in interacting with the livings” she counters; she feels safe in this office, she takes a look around recognizing a lot of familiar pictures and colorful odds and ends, but also some new addictions. Finally her eyes fall on a corner on the wall covered with pictures.   
“Oh, that’s the smiling wall” Garcia explains noticing what caught Emily’s attention “All the people that count in my life are there, so when I’m overwhelmed by a case I stare at it and it helps me to remember how much love surrounds me”.  
Emily can’t help a smile to come out and for a moment it feels like everything is normal, like back in the old times, when just like any other day she would chat with Garcia during a short break, it feels like these months of separation never happened “There’s a pretty big bunch of people on your smiling wall, you’re lucky” she comments, trying to hold on to this feeling of familiarity.  
“Yeah, well.. there’s all of you, Kevin, the team, then your families and kids, JJ’s, Hotch’s and well.. next turn is either you or Morgan or Reid… Any plans about that?” she grins maliciously and then sobers immediately noticing Emily’s hand moving to her lap and looking away.  
“Oh my god… Is everything ok? I mean after your injury, I didn’t think…” she panics tripping over the words and almost breaking in tears.  
“It’s all right Pen, everything is still in place and my wound healed nicely without complications” she reassures “Physically all is good, but honestly I wouldn’t count on me to fill another spot on that wall soon..” she makes a quick move to the door “Now I have to go and do some actual work, I’ll see you later, ok?” she smiles at the abashed analyst.  
“Emily.. I am mortified, I…”  
“Pen. It’s okay. I’m not going anywhere, I’m fine physically and you all can stop walking on eggs around me. It’ll take time but we’ll all be fine. I promise” she grants taking the analyst’s hands in hers and manages to steal her a smile “Listen, why don’t you come over to my place one of these nights? We drink a glass of wine, you tell me how it’s going with Kevin and I get to convince you that there’s nothing creepy about my house”  
Penelope straightens in joy on her chair in response to the invitation she didn’t hope to get, and shakes her head in confirmation “Have a good first day back, my friend” she hugs Emily before going back to her job.


	4. Chapter 4

Reid is dragging himself to the elevator when he notices the single light still on in JJ’s office. He startles for a second, still not used to the idea of seeing that office taken again, then he remembers and it feels like he’s safe at home again.   
Surprisingly he can’t bring himself to be upset with Emily, he wasn’t the first time when she walked away from the bullpen, and even more so he can’t blame her for a choice that, not only was painful and unavoidable, but was taken by others on her behalf. He can’t bring himself to be mad at JJ and Hotch either for taking the burden of silence.   
Reid is too tired to lose time over fights and pressing questions, he desperately needs some comfort and friendship and all he can see right now is that one of his dearest friends, whom he believed lost forever, is back. All he can think is second chances are not to be wasted in grudge and resentment.   
He knows this is not typical of him, the old Reid would be deadly mad at Emily, he would never trust her again and probably would refuse to work with her because you can’t trust someone who lied to your face for five years, because she is a stranger, because he told her his secrets and then she vanished. But this new Reid knows better, he knows why Emily did all what she did, he knows how much bravery she is capable of, especially when it comes down to protect her family; he has seen the pain, the fear and the desperation in her eyes and he has recognized something he’s familiar with, the weariness and the exhaustion.   
Emily came back and first thing she did was seeing straight through to the core of his hidden fears, and he can’t overlook that.

“Working late hours?” Reid approaches her standing at the door of the office.  
She raises her head, eyes wide not expecting anybody else to be in given the late hour, then seeing a familiar face she relaxes “Well I’m in probation, I have to show the boss I worth the money I get” she jokes before explaining “Hotch asked me to consult on some cases and since I need to keep myself busy and I don’t have good books to read… here I am”  
Reid looks at the desk where once JJ used to sit before leaving “Hotch had to take another profiler, you know?”  
“Yes he told me. And I understand it, Seaver is brilliant but she’s not experienced. So what’s his name again?”  
“Lloyd” Reid answers with flat voice, then noticing her questioning look he goes on “he’s coming from a desk job, for real this time” he says it without malice, almost playfully but it makes Emily chuckle “He’s really…. meticulous”  
“It’s good, isn’t it?” she prompts.  
“Thorough is good, stubborn is good, meticulous is… dull. He uses a color code for his files and he matches the color of the paper clips. And he wears stockings of the same color of his tie..” well hearing Dr Reid addressing someone else’s idiosyncrasy is definitely something new she thinks while she chuckles in complicity, secretly relieved because she’s not the only one finding this character odd. Then she gets serious again, she needs to get this straight with him “Reid… I know it’s hard to have me back here out of the blue, and this is the reason why I’m in this office doing paper work instead of in the bullpen working cases with you. If I see that the team works better with him than with me, I have to be honest, no matter what Hotch and Strauss decide, I’m not going to claim my spot back”  
“How can he fit in better than you, Emily!?!?” Reid objects upset.  
“It’s been a long time Reid, and you all have been through a lot of changes, a new unnecessary emotional earthquake is the last thing you need. I can’t expect to win back you trust just in a snap, and you know how trust is crucial especially in the field. So let’s not jump to conclusions, ok?”  
Reid reluctantly nods, knowing already what his final decision will be; he’s about to go away when he notices the sport bag and the running shoes beside her desk, “Wow, do you find also the time to go to the gym?” he comments surprised.  
Emily drops her pencil on the desk with a bitter smile “Why do you work so late, Reid?”  
“Because there’s a lot of work to do” he stutters taken aback.  
“Sure? Because I don’t see anyone else of the team, not even Hotch in here. Just you.”  
Reid looks down at his shoes, not saying anything.  
“I think we both know that the only way to keep demons away is to be too busy or too tired to listen to them. Am I right?”  
The young doctor nods silently and looks at her with the expression of a kid caught with his hands in a cookie jar.  
“..But it’s not solution, just a crappy way to delay the moment we confront our fears” she carries on.  
“Have you done that yet?” Reid asks shyly.  
“Do I look like someone who reached the inner peace to you?” she sarcastically raises an eyebrow.  
Reid chuckles, then turns serious “This is one reason why you should come back. I can’t talk to Lloyd… and he can’t play poker. I miss you.” He swallows the lump to his throat “And knowing that we could be a family again makes even harder to stand your absence”  
Emily has to work hard to stop the tears from coming down and swearing him that if necessary she will cut Lloyd’s throat in order to be back. Instead she places a feeble smile and walks toward her friend “I wish it was so easy, Reid. But this doesn’t mean you can’t come and talk to me anytime you want, I’m not going anywhere. Now go home and catch some sleep” she squeezes his hand until she sees a smile on his face too.  
She looks at him fading into the elevator with his usual fast pace, hands in his pockets, his bag over his shoulder and his purple scarf. She tries to picture him beside Lloyd, in a perfect suit, tie and socks matching; his files ordered by color accurately stored into a leather handbag, and she can’t help giggling.   
Then she turns and grabs her bag and running shoes; the demons are going to wait for tonight.

 _The first month I used to give in to sobs as soon as I switched off the light, shaking and crying as a scared child. Then I learnt that if you lead your body beyond the threshold of exhaustion, where even breathing aches like hell, then sleep will come easily, you’ll drift into unconsciousness until your body recovers and in this state of blessed oblivion there’s no room for thoughts, memories or feelings. When the exception becomes the rule, the extreme the routine, it’s easy – and convenient- to lose the big picture, you go because you don’t have anywhere to stay, you go because you don’t know any better.  
Whether I was hurriedly leaving one identity for the next one, or walking into my fake job, with my fake name and my fake story, or punching a bag and running ten miles a day to be prepared for the day I would confront Doyle again, or digging and squeezing my contacts to track him down; at the end of the day it all came down to the same conclusion, me being like a mouse running desperately through a maze, covering the same roads over and over with the foolish idea that it’s getting somewhere.   
If only I had had an unsub to chase, I would have taken him down in real Derek Morgan style, instead I was stuck in a hopeless limbo of oblivion, where nobody was looking for me because nobody suspected there was still someone to look for.  
Now, maybe there will still be unsubs to chase, maybe Emily Prentiss is not done yet, but sure she’s damaged to the core; a part of her is gone forever and god knows if she will ever be able to function again.  
All the women I’ve been during this time are mashing together inside my head, uncertain whether to stay here a little longer in case they’re still needed or to take leave of me and fade into darkness together with Lauren and the other ghosts from the past.  
So now I’m not sure I can tell who I am. What I know is that nobody can understand the mess hiding inside my head except my friends, they’re my only hope, the only light still flashing in the darkness. And if this time they decide they don’t want me back, I don’t know what I will do.   
Here I am, in another impasse, waiting for judgment and dealing with what’s left of me._


	5. Chapter 5

It’s late at the BAU and the bullpen is becoming emptier and emptier, Rossi leaves his office to go and refill his coffee when he decides to take a detour and check on Emily. He understands Hotch’s decision to give her an office on her own, at least at the moment, but at the same time he feels this is not helping to make her feel still part of the team; her replacement is sitting at her desk with her friends and she’s in a corner all alone.   
Her door is slightly ajar and she’s intent in examining a thick file, she rubs a hand on her forehead in exhaustion and brings the mug to her lips just to realize it’s empty; in that same moment she notices Rossi staring at her from the door, he has his usual tired smile, the one only those who have seen enough in their life can afford, that smile that means ‘whether you like it or not I’m checking on you and don’t try to hide because you know I can read you as an open book’.   
“You know you cannot live on caffeine, don’t you” he comments with a grin.  
“Said the man with a mug on his way to the coffee machine…” she responds with equal irony.  
“It’s not my fault if the bureau etiquette doesn’t allow whiskey in working hours” he smiles back “Want to keep me company?”  
“Sure” Emily walks past him and down the bullpen to see that almost everybody has already gone. Her office is quiet but secluded and sometimes she misses not being able to keep an eye on the traffic of people coming and going.  
“What were you working on that made you so exhausted?” he purposely avoids the question on how is she holding on, figuring she must be nauseated of hearing that and giving every time an answer that is probably far from the truth.   
“Ah, it’s nothing. Just every time I fill in reports and consultations or I skim cases that are worthy of our attention to others which are not, I realize how tough JJ’s job was and how gracefully she managed to make it look like simple bureaucracy”  
Rossi nods in silence pouring the black fuming bliss in their mugs.   
Emily tortures her forefinger with a debated expression, the voices her real concern “There is this woman. She disappeared in Utah” she blows on the cup attempting a sip of her drink and slightly twitches at the burning feeling on her lips “Everything indicates she got lost while hiking, no signs of abduction, no suicidal notes, no suspects. I frankly think it was a tragic accident and as bad as it sounds what can be done is to carry on the search and hope to find the body so that the family can be at peace…”  
“I agree with your evaluation” he supports her “but this is not what’s bothering you..” he patiently waits for her to carry on, cup in his hand.  
Emily poses her coffee on the counter and adjusts the rim of her shirt, shifting uncomfortably until she’s able to level her gaze to his “They will go on searching for her. Then other cases will come up and gradually the number of agents employed in the search will be reduced. Eventually the only ones still looking for her will be her friend and family, but after a while they’ll give up. They will move on and chose to remember her when she was still alive and happy, and not a lifeless body rotting in some remote crevasse into the mountains”  
Rossi starts to understand where she’s heading but still doesn’t say a word.  
“There’s no business for us to be there, but I can’t help thinking that if that woman is still alive, the only thing that keeps her going is the thought of her family looking for her” she admits almost embarrassed.  
“Emily, you know that there’s no way to survive in those mountains for such a long period, don’t you? That woman IS dead, and we cannot do anything that the local rangers cannot do, if not better than us” he offers.  
“I know. It’s just that I was that woman. I know how it feels like when all is lost and hopeless, when you become just a vague memory and people move on without you.”  
“Emily, believe me you were everything but a vague memory. You were missed all the time, while working on a case, on the way back home, in our everyday life. When Lloyd was assigned to your previous desk for two days Morgan couldn’t even say hi to him. I don’t know how could he stop himself from chocking the guy” Rossi objects feeling a wave of pain, rage, compassion for all she’s been through.  
Emily arches an eyebrow “Wow, you guys really don’t like him…”  
“This is because we can’t get over you, an other argument against your fool theory of being a vague memory” he smiles encouragingly.  
Emily smiles in surrender and gratitude, then perplexity clouds her again “I’ve always been good at compartmentalizing, even in the most difficult situations, but now it feels like this experience carved me” she pauses for a moment, noticing not without sarcasm the peculiarity of her own wording choices “whenever I look into a case I emotionally connect with the victims or even with the unsubs and frankly I’m starting to question my ability to continue doing this job” she stares puzzled at Rossi when he burst out in a laugh.  
“Is that funny?” she asks confused.  
“No” he shakes his head coming close and taking a sip of coffee “No, it’s not funny. It’s familiar. For many years after retiring I went on thinking that no matter what, I was a hell of a profiler. This was what I could do best and nobody could teach me anything. Then when I rejoined the BAU I fell on my face realizing that I had to work hard in order to fit in this group, but I managed. I took a step away from my ego and learnt to approach my job and the team work in a new perspective, and today I can say that this made me a much better profiler, but most of all a more decent man”  
“Ok, I see your point but I don’t get how this relates to me and my ability to profile again” Emily objects perplexed.  
“You had to face tough decisions, alone, scared and away from your comfort zone, Emily. You lived in a gray area with no friends or reference points. It’s not a walk in the park; it’s something that requires a certain degree of nerves and bravery. What you’ve experienced didn’t incapacitate you to do your job, on the contrary it empowered you. What you are feeling now is empathy and it proves that you’re a human being, a remarkable one. You should be worried if you didn’t feel this compassion for who’s going through your same nightmare. What you have to learn now is to integrate this empathy with your profiling ability; it’ll take time but you have all the team at your side, ready and eager to help. All you have to do is ask” he raises his mug in a cheering gesture and walks back to his office.  
Emily follows him with her gaze and slowly goes back to her work, for the first time in those long months she can feel the weight of solitude slowly relieving from her shoulders.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter came out longer than I wanted, for this I blame my naughty muse and my inveterate M-P shipping attitude.  
> My apologies, I hope you'll like it anyway. :)

His hand blocks the doors of the elevator halfway and he slides in with a serious yet uneasy expression; after their conversation at the hospital, between Derek and Emily it’s been a series of push and pull trying to understand how to interact but often ending up in awkward silences or dry snaps.  
Finally he breaks the silence “You know Emily, I’m trying hard here but you’re not making this easy at all for me”  
“What?” she stutters taken aback.

 _Derek Morgan is territorial and protective, even to the point of being aggressive when it comes to his team; he has to be sure that everybody is all right and to do this he needs to know in which state of mind we all are. It’s not a by-product of some ‘filled with testosterone pack leader’ mentality, but a genuine consequence of his care for his friends. Derek Morgan needs to have the situation under control and make sure that if there are some cracks he will do everything in his power to fix them.  
I know he spends his days thinking of what it would have been if he arrived sixty seconds before as much as I spend mines wondering what if he had arrived sixty seconds later; then everything would be over and maybe things would be a lot easier for all of us”  
There’s a point beyond which you get lost, you forget the comfort of friendly words, the warmth of an embrace and the next thing you know is that despite you spend your days longing for those things, if you were presented with them, you probably couldn’t handle them…  
I stare at him dull as he can’t keep his fluster anymore and snaps telling me that he understands I’ve been through a trauma, that I feel like nobody else can understand me, but I’m wrong. He was there while I was bleeding out on the floor that day, he was there when my coffin was laid into the ground, he was there to watch the team breaking in the wake of the tragedy; his face is a mask of grudge when he adds that he was there when I lied to his face, telling I was ok and then I vanished.  
I understand the rage, the frustration, the hurt of betrayal, the fear, the sentiment of loss.  
I understand his struggle to accept my obstinacy and his effort to trust me without knowing exactly what’s happening in my head.  
I understand and yet I observe his scene as if I was a fish in a bowl, from a remote place where I don’t know exactly if I’m a spectator or an actor in this play.  
I would really like to provide some answers, or at least some reactions to his words, instead I mutter an inconsistent apology and I run away as soon as the doors of the elevator open._

 _I watch all these people driving around the city, running, going somewhere, chasing something. I’d like to stop them and tell there’s nothing to run to; that tomorrow is such a far, scary, uncertain place that they shouldn’t be so eager to get there. They should worry about the present, about the ones who crowd their everyday existence, make sure they know how important they are, because you never know…tomorrow.  
I watch all these people running and I think that I don’t want to run anymore, I just want to lie still; do whatever you want, walk over me, gather me, hold me and tell me that everything’s going be all right or ignore me; I don’t care. Just don’t make me run again. Please.  
Derek is right, out of line, but right. And scared. I’ve never seen him losing control, but I think it’s good for him; if I know him well he probably spent those months trying to help out the other members of the team coping with their own grief and holding his own feelings to himself, digging his head in overtime work or tearing down houses.  
I can handle him, I have to; I want things to work again between us, he’s one of my dearest friends and I care a lot about him, but I have to be careful. Once you open up to him, he can see right through you, and I’m not ready for this. Not yet. You have to be patient Derek, you have to stop digging or you’ll end up in a very dark place that you really don’t want to visit._

Derek knocks at the door once, twice.  
Silence.  
So he tries the bell just to find a hole where the button is supposed to be.  
He wandered through the city for a while cursing against himself for losing his temper before calming down. He’s a profiler -damn it- all his job, all his life are built on the ability to keep his emotions under control and approach people in the most suitable way, but today with Emily the panic and the frustration took over and he lost it. He doesn’t recall many times in which he huffed out his frustration so badly, and Emily is a friend who has been through a lot and doesn’t deserve his rage outbursts.  
Finally he tries the handle of the door, which promptly turns under his hands letting him in with no resistance; if the unlocked door sends a wave of panic right to his guts, the sight of the desolate apartment is not more reassuring. Instinctively he reaches for his gun and moves silently through the ample open space; the big windows on the three main walls extend almost up to the high ceiling, giving a feeling of spaciousness but also emptiness that adds up to the basic frugality of the furniture; to define the overall style of the apartment as minimalist would be an overstatement. The freshly painted walls are free form pictures or paintings or whatever items announcing the presence of someone living there; on the right side of the entrance a winding stair leads to a mezzanine where he can see the access to the bathroom. On the right side of the open space there’s a coffee table with a sofa and a couple of chairs, then on the same side at the far corner there’s the kitchen, divided by the rest of the space just by a counter. On the left side of the apartment there’s a mattress thrown on the floor, at its side a clock, a bedside lamp and a worn picture of the team that seems to have been through a lot, just like its owner. On the bed a book, as tattered as the picture, he recognizes it and suddenly has a flashback of an old conversation, Vonnegut’s words surfacing to his lips “You are who you pretend to be, so be careful who you pretend to be”; the awareness that these words apply to Emily much more than he could have ever expected from that early conversation wipes the smile away from his mouth, bitterness and sorrow for his blindness and her pain now cast a shadow on that memory.  
A fresh breeze moving the pages of the book turns his attention to the big window on the main wall, which leads to a terrace; Morgan take the few steps and finds her sitting on the parapet, a mug in her hands, staring at the city lights extending behind, he freezes for a second assessing the best way to approach her “I’m not planning to jump, don’t worry” she turns to him with a bitter smile.  
“Emily I’m sorry, I…” he starts apologizing.  
“Stop. Stop for god’s sake” she cut him with a tired tone “Stop apologizing, stop being sympathetic, stop looking at me with pity, stop trying to understand”  
“You know that you’re pretty much asking the people who love you to step away from you?” he tries to defend.  
“No. I’m asking you, Derek” which unsettles him “Every time I look at you I see your urge to know, to understand, to have control of the situation” she leaves the parapet, to much Derek’s relief, and walks toward him.  
“I push because you withdraw continuously, and I don’t want to lose you again” he explains.  
“And I withdraw because you push too much. Honestly I don’t know how to answer your questions” she quarrels stealing a glance “I don’t know how I’m doing, I don’t know what I want, I barely know who I am. I don’t know where I belong anymore..” she stops before her voice can break.  
“You’re home, safe among friends. You belong here, with us. It might seem strange because you’ve been away in a scary place for a long time, but things are going to get better.” Derek is desperate to make her understand she’s not alone and realizes he’s out of words, something he doesn’t experience often. Was she Penelope he would wrap her in an embrace, with Reid a hand on his shoulder would be enough to make him feel his friendship, but with Emily he doesn’t know what to do; their relationship has always been eyes, words, trust, but no physicality, maybe a thud on the shoulder but nothing more, as if there was a special invisible barrier they dread to cross.  
Eventually he reaches for her hand and squeezes it lightly the same way he did months ago on a bare floor in Boston, he pauses for a moment holding her hand searching for poignant words, “Prentiss, let’s get inside. You’re freezing” is everything he manages to comes up with.  
“Okay, so I can give you a tour of the house..” she responds starting to relax.  
“Ah ah, yes. Your luxurious abode…We have to sit and talk a bit about the staple you decided to live in..” he promptly criticizes and Emily rolls her eyes knowing it’s a question of time before he states he’s going to renovate the whole place.  
“It’s frugal and minimal, I like it” she insists.  
“It’s depressing and unsafe”  
“Oh c’mon Derek, stop being so dramatic”  
“The lock of my closet is safer than the one at the entrance door of this apartment. The bell doesn’t work and you have a bundle of exposed wires in its place. You are surrounded by windows, none of them is double paned which means no insulation, in winter you will be freezing. The outlets don’t have GFI and I don’t even want to think of what I might find once I inspect the bathroom…” he looks at her with a scolding glare.  
“Once you inspect? What are you now, an architect?” she mocks back.  
“No, just a concerned friend who wants you to live in a safe and healthy place. Ah, and the floors need to be treated, the wood stains easily and there’s already some damage down there in the corner”  
“Yes I know. The previous owner was some kind of troubled artist who shot himself in the head, they were able to remove the blood from the walls but not from the floor” she explains evenly while pouring a cup of coffee for Derek.  
“Come again?” he freezes in bewilderment.  
“What? Every house has a story…” she shrugs.  
“Woman, you worry me… seriously” he sits down on the sofa in surrender.  
Emily burst out laughing and he feels a shiver tingling his spine in hearing again her giggle, her face lights up in amusement as she winks at him playfully with that expression that always left him dumbfounded over the years “Ok,” she settles with a grin “ you behave and I’ll let you play a little with this house. But don’t get too excited, I said a little”  
“As you wish ma’am” he plays along.  
They sit in silence for a while, sipping their coffee and indulging in memories and thoughts it’s too soon and too scary to share, until it’s time for Derek to bid his goodbye. While heading to the door, he notices the black protrusion from underneath the pillow on the mattress “Do you sleep with a gun under your pillow?” he asks trying to deceive the alarm in his voice.  
“Question of habit” she offers, but seeing that doesn’t wipe his concern away, she goes on “The few times I can actually catch sleep I have really vivid nightmares. Knowing that I can reach for my gun when I wake up helps a little”  
“I’m not surprised you’re having nightmares. Wanna talk about that?”  
“Not yet” she answers what she knows he wants to hear, even though both of them know she will never face that subject spontaneously.  
“Anything I can do to help?” he offers again in that soft tone she has missed so much.  
“Unless you want to sleep with me and when I wake up screaming in cold sweat you calm me down telling me it’s nothing…” she proposes, and stops half way noticing his sear expression “I was joking Derek” she clarifies.  
She leans against the door letting a breath come out when he finally leaves. How long will it been before he manages to see her deep enough and realize the sea of troubles he’s putting himself into? How long will it be before she can’t keep him away anymore?

 _Few hours after going away he came back, I actually couldn’t believe my ears when he told me he would have slept on the couch until my nightmares were over. If he sticks to this purpose he’d better get used to the idea of moving in permanently, because these monsters got so deeply under my skin, that now are the most faithful companions of my troubled nights.  
So now I am crouched in a corner of my bed, awake, staring at the clock’s hands that decided to slow down their race, making fool of me. No drama, it’s not gonna be the first nor the last night spent waiting; I had far more uncomfortable and scary experiences on these lines and I can take it.  
Tomorrow I will tell him that I had the first good sleep after months, he will insist sleeping over another couple of nights until he will be convinced I’m getting better and will stop coming over, he will feel helpful finally and will loose the grip on me a bit.  
I hate that I have to lie to him, but considering his stubborn determination I don’t have a choice, just because I’m on the edge of breaking down, it doesn’t mean I have to drag him down the pit with me.  
I get some water and then head for the terrace, the chilly air tingles my naked legs and arms, I lean on the parapet and stare at this city that once I was so comfortable in calling home; the skyline, the lights, the smells, the voices of the night life, familiar though distant memories.  
I wonder what’s going to happen tomorrow, I wonder how am I going to get my head on top of this mess.  
Is what’s left of me enough to be me again? Is it gonna be enough for my family?  
When I start shaking with shivers, my bare feet freezing on the cold tiles, I decide it’s time to go back. I turn and here he is, staring at me; on his face there’s no rage, or pity, just need. Need to be here for me, need to find me again, need to understand. He doesn’t say a word, he doesn’t need to; he figured that out, and we both know I can fool him no more._

 _I watch this man standing in front of me, his body is a bundle of nerves, fieriness and repressed emotions; how long he’s been keeping his feelings under guard I don’t know, but you can see he constantly makes a huge effort to keep his demeanor. Wasn’t the professional profiler he is, Derek would be a big troublemaker, a bad guy, someone Lauren would easily fall for.  
I watch him and I see this caged lion, struggling to keep his instincts, to follow the protocol, to measure his reactions and carefully choose his words. I look at him and I feel his urge to lose control, I feel the tension and it thrills me because I’ve been on the loose for a while and experienced how it feels like to be unleashed, not bound to rules and norms; it’s scary but intoxicating.  
I watch this man and I think he’s really a good man, but it’s dangerous for the two of us to stay so close, because we’re cut out of the same cloth, two reckless souls who learnt the art of discipline, of behaving themselves according to the situation. We’ve always worked well together, but now something has changed and I feel like we’re playing with fire.  
I’m dying to lose control, again, another time.  
He senses that, his eyes widen a bit and he takes a step away because he knows what’s in my mind and he reckons that deep inside this is what he wants too, and he’s damn scared of that. He’s scared of the consequences, he’s scared of his own curiosity, he’s scared of my fearless attitude, and he likes it also.  
What are you going to do Derek, control yourself again, or venture in the dark, just this one time?  
And what am I going to do? Show you one of my dark faces or make the right decision for both of us?_

“I think you should go now” she almost whispers.  
He stares at her in confusion, still trying to unravel this turmoil inside him, these thoughts he didn’t even imagine himself capable of.  
He takes a step toward her “And I think it’s time to stop with these games, Emily. You need some rest and you need to face whatever it is that makes you so scared. Now go back to bed and try to get some rest. I won’t leave you alone.”  
She silently complies and heads back inside while he stays out there a bit longer; he closes his eyes and takes deep breaths to regain control. Then he goes back and sits on the couch, watching over the woman that so many times had his back and swearing that whatever is haunting her he won’t let it destroy her.


	7. Chapter 7

_It’s been two weeks after my return at the BAU and I still feel like a stranger. I walk through the bullpen registering the glares on me, some of them are pleasant, they whisper welcome back, they smile in encouragement, some others sting with diffidence and envy… What’s here to envy I frankly ignore.  
I almost run on the way to my office and I shut the door.   
Breathe, you’re safe.  
The towers of files staring at me from the desk are almost reassuring, they give structure to my day, relieving me from thinking and figuring out how to get through this new pace of life, making this rhythmic regular existence seem nearly manageable._

When Garcia pops in without knocking Emily jumps on her seat and immediately after starts giggling; the technical analyst looks at her friend bewildered. Then announces the reason of her intrusion -There’s a case in San Diego, Hotch wants us all in the briefing room. You come? - Garcia keeps herself from asking how she’s doing, still afraid to be too intrusive.  
-I’m fine Garcia- Emily reassures her reading the concern on her face -I was so concentrated in reading that I forgot everything else- she smiles, and this time it seems less difficult than the other days.   
On the way to the conference room everything looks so familiar and thrilling at the same time, Emily was right five years ago when she insisted on having a shot in the unit; she belongs with this unit, as much as a dolphin belongs with the ocean.

Rossi is walking toward the conference room right after Hotch, the two men still sharing a look of complicity, which makes her hope that Hotch won’t lose the trust of the team for having covered her back, and partially assuages her guilt.   
Seaver is joining them with fast strands, she still has the eager attitude of the newcomer who doesn’t want to miss a word or a lesson and is anxious to prove herself, but an increased confidence is clear in her demeanor, one day soon she’ll realize she’s competent enough to trust her own judgment.

Reid gathers a pile of files from his desk and raises his gaze to meet Emily’s, a wide smile brightens his pensive expression as he realizes she’s joining the briefing. Emily can’t help thinking there’s something beautiful about the way fragility and bravery are deeply entwined in Reid’s personality, and even though she will always be protective toward him she’s not sure he needs her anymore. Just this thought makes her feel overwhelmingly proud and unworthy of his friendship.   
Right behind Reid a man, who at first sight she mistakes for an accountant, follows him promptly, a glimpse of his tie and later, while he trots up the stairs, of his matching socks reveals finally the face of Lloyd, her dull and meticulous alter ego. He’s clutching his leather handbag as if the future of the planet depended on its content, his gaze planted on the ground as he walks.  
Garcia lightly poses a hand on Emily’s back as encouragement before entering the room.

 _There’s nothing to worry about Emily.  
Breathe, you’re home._

Once in, Penelope exchanges some mocking lines with Morgan, who then casually shifts his gaze on Emily, grazing his mug with the tip of his fingers. He doesn’t mention anything about the nights he spent on her couch and how her complaints slowly faded in grateful compliance, and she’s incredibly grateful for his discretion.   
Her feeling that the two of them are dangerously walking on a thin line is still lingering on her, but it doesn’t stop her from letting him in every night and it dissolves as dew in the sunlight when she opens her eyes in the morning, welcomed by the aroma of coffee and his husky voice greeting a brief good morning before leaving.

 _Breathe, one pace at a time._

As soon as they all sit at the table Hotch starts briefing the case. It feels like if she has never left.   
Each one provides comments and insight on the case, Emily suggests the unsub might be a woman receiving nods in agreement, she realizes just a second after that the suggestion came from her and she feels as pleased as the rest of the team for being back in, for feeling again part of something.  
When Hotches pronounces the much missed ‘wheels up in thirty’ warning which declares the briefing over, he stops by her and with an even and unruffled tone he states “Prentiss you’re coming with us”, she mumbles a “yes, thank you” in reply and registers the vibe of excitement from the rest of the team. Garcia can’t help a celebrating jump and a squealing rosary of congratulations, Rossi casually congratulates patting on her shoulder while he leaves the room, right after him Reid smiles radiant, barely containing his excitement.   
Emily reciprocates everybody’s happiness until she’s alone in the room and the panic kicks in again.

 _Breathe, you can take it._

“Breathe” a soft voice whispers to her ear joining her silent prayer, she turns to find Derek leaning on the table beside her, “Hotch is testing you, it’s good” he tries to reassure.  
She nods “I know. But what happens if I don’t function anymore with the team? If you cannot trust me. If…”  
“Emily” he cuts her off “what you have to focus on is that there is an unsub to profile. Everything will follow, you’re a natural and you don’t forget how to profile or how to be part of your family that easy” he sooths her in a calm tone.  
“But…” frightened eyes look at him still not convinced.  
“We’re a team. You’re not alone and nobody is willing to let you go that easy” he proceeds to quiet her with his chant “You’ve been forewarned” he adds with a grin.  
“Morgan” she has never really thanked him for the nights he spent on her couch watching over her sleep, and this is not the best moment “…Can we have a moment sometimes, to talk?”  
“Anytime” he smiles before leaving the room.

 _On the jet I fix myself a coffee, just because caffeine is exactly what I need to sooth my anxiety right now. Once back to my seat I find an awkward Lloyd staring at me from the seat across the isle with a shy smile. It’s an awkward situation to work together knowing that only one of us will stay eventually, “So you’re the famous Agent Prentiss…finally we meet” he breaks the ice “I heard a lot about you and I didn’t understand your departure was temporary” stone eyes darting from the rest of the team at the rather awkward phrasing “How is it to be part of the BAU again?”  
I look around feeling the warmth of family, the love and the support of the people I hurt so much and still love me. I feel terrified at the idea of failing them again, of being rejected, of not being good enough. Then my answer comes out almost in a raspy moan, my eyes darting around checking for everybody’s reaction “It feels like I’m back home, among friends”  
“You are” Rossi reassures me, echoed by Reid.  
Hotch addresses me a knowing look and at my side Derek squeezes my hand while a quick smile crosses our lips.  
For the first time in months I relax and I feel the run is over.   
Finally I’m home, finally I can start healing._


End file.
